Skedaddle

While putting in I catch the sound of very distant thunder.  This is the low and long rumble that makes you pause and think about what it is that you are hearing, and you only hear it if you listening to the world around you.  As soon as I start moving it is imperceptible.   It is someone else's storm. It reminds of the sound that comes from a train freight yard, one that is a mile away when an engine connects to a long line of cars. It is an indistinct rumble that goes on for a long fraction of a minute as each car in turn bangs into the next.

I set out to check on the young Osprey, heading up the Neck River and then into Bailey Creek.  The storm clouds are to the west and look like they should sweep north and away from me.  Halfway into the Sneak I surprise five Willets.  One remains and scolds me for minutes.  I suspect it is the same Willet that followed me and S the other day.  It was an unusually determined bird. 

There is that determined Willet

When I look up from my camera I catch a flash of far off lightning in the corner of my eye.  It might have been a trick of the light, a sparkle of something, but then again it might have been lightning.  I turn around and head back.  There is no cover in the salt marsh - and I am the tallest object for hundreds of yards around me.  The clouds are no longer sweeping past but are slowly pushing over.  The deep rumble of distant thunder is exchanged for the distinct crackle of something much closer.  A sharp edged lightning bolt reaches down.  I count the seconds between the sight and the sound.  It's a couple miles off.  A light rain comes just as I reach the put-in.